Chapter Text
“Your son…” the doctor trailed off and licked his lips before giving a proper answer. Whether it was for dramatic effect or if he actually had to take a breath was not clear to Izuku, who was too focused on fiddling with the action figure in his hands and looking at all of the posters around the room. Nine in ten children have quirks, one stated. Your quirk does not define you, proclaimed another. Even Izuku knew that was silly. He’d been watching everyone in his class become redefined for the past year.
Finally, the doctor continued. “Most likely has a quirk.” Izuku didn’t quite catch his mother’s sigh of relief, and if he did, he didn’t focus on it. He was more excited at the prospect the doctor gave him, anyways. “All of the tests for quirklessness came out negative.”
Izuku quietly giggled to himself, looking down at the mini All Might figure held in his hands.
He did have a quirk.
Izuku sat quietly in the corner of the school courtyard, hands brought up to circle his knees. Hugging himself brought little comfort, but he kept up the action in hopes that being unobtrusive would defer Kacchan’s attention. It was a fleeting hope, of course. Kacchan would get bored and come after him eventually, but Izuku would rather delay it for as long as possible, anyways. He toed at the dirt and wood chips for lack of anything else to do.
It was stupid . Kacchan had no reason to come after him so much—he wasn’t even quirkless! It was just… coming in late. That’s what the doctor said, at least. He doesn’t even have the toe joint or anything. But Kacchan and the other kids still made fun of him because it’s either never coming or it’s useless. They’re… probably right, but Izuku still kept that flame of hope inside of him. He knew it was coming, he just didn’t know what it was yet. As he kept up this train of thought, he bit at his lip to keep himself from tearing up. No one likes a crybaby, but it just made him upset to think so deep into it. He can’t stop entertaining the idea that he’d never get a quirk.
Izuku didn’t look up as he heard rapid footsteps coming towards him. He already knew who it was. “What do you want, Kacchan,” he mumbled, trying to keep his voice from shaking.
Kacchan could see right through it, of course. He always does. His reply was quick and scathing. “Gosh, you’re such a stupid Deku! Always crying! Wah, wah, wah.”
Jesus. His insults were stupid, but six year old Izuku felt like he’d been stabbed ten times over in the heart. ‘Wah wah wah’ was the pinnacle of insults for them. His eyes only watered more, despite his efforts to try and prove Kacchan was wrong. Maybe he was a crybaby. He heard the sparks as Kacchan attempted to ignite his quirk—it always took a few tries. It had only come in a year ago, and he immediately ditched Izuku when he realized his quirk was slower. His explosions were still weak, but everyday, Kacchan used him as a punching bag and they grew in intensity and strength. Izuku stiffened and prepared himself for the incoming burns, shutting his eyes to will away the tears and the pain, hoping it’d hurt just a little less if he didn’t watch it happen.
He waited and waited, but there was no pain—none of the flash and red hot burn he’d been preparing for. He slowly opened his eyes, apprehensive of what he might see.
A tiny spark was suspended in the air. It floated there, and seemed to move with every restrained breath Izuku took. Even the other kids who had gathered round to watch the daily beatdown were silent, viewing the spark with a level of shock and awe. It glinted in the afternoon sun, sparkling in a way Izuku had never seen Kacchan’s quirk sparkle before.
Eventually, everyone broke themselves out of their stupor. “Katsuki! Why’s it doing that?!” a few kids called out, all of them clamoring over one another. Kacchan took a moment longer before clearing his throat and making a new spark to hurt Izuku, with similar results—it simply hung in the air. It was almost as if there was an invisible forcefield around him. The sparks would behave completely normally in Kacchan’s palm, but as soon as he tried to throw them against Izuku, they just… wouldn’t.
Was… was it Izuku that was doing this? He didn’t dare speak the thought aloud, and nobody else did either. It seemed impossible. Izuku having a useless quirk was, like, one of the universal truths. Kacchan was the strongest, All Might was the coolest, the school curry always tasted a little funny, and Izuku had a useless quirk.
But no one could deny watching it rise and fall in rhythm with Izuku’s chest, both having a fluttering and heavy tempo as Izuku recovered from the adrenaline. No one could deny the green tint they seemed to acquire, only visible when they came near him and the sun hit them just right.
If Izuku did this and he looked like a fool… who cared? He was already a loser. There’s nowhere else to go but up, right? He might as well try. Shakily, he brought one hand up, everyone around him watching the limb with bated breath, himself and Kacchan included. He thought back to all of the magazines he’d read on quirk activation, all of the websites he’d spent hours poring over, all of the times he’d begged his mother, asking how it felt, what it was like. He reached deep inside himself, and moved his hand to the right, willing the sparks to follow.
And they did. They went up, they went down, they got bigger, they got smaller, and they exploded into a million pieces of glittery, shiny dust as they were brought down and extinguished in the wood chips and underneath the feet of small school children.
Kacchan was the first to speak, simply stating, “Holy crap.” The rest of the children immediately followed in a pandemonium; half was shrill, unbridled screeching—” Katsuki said a bad word!” —and the other half was… similar screeching about how the useless Deku finally found his quirk. Izuku looked up with glinting, ecstatic eyes, scrambling to his feet, and Kacchan stomped away, fuming, probably seething over how the useless Deku deflected his attacks. Izuku couldn’t focus on that right now, all he could think of was how excited he was to get home and show his mother.
The day passed all too quickly and yet all too slowly after that. Izuku ran up to his mother, gripping at her, circling his arms around her warm body, already rambling with his mouth faster than his brain could catch up. He was met with equally warm replies, loving words, and a toasty, cozy bed once he’d rambled himself out.
From then on, things were different. All his classmates weren’t as afraid to talk to him now—before, Kacchan usually scared them off, or they didn’t want to be seen with the weird useless Deku. But he wasn’t useless. Maybe a little weird, he’ll admit that, but he’s no longer useless. Even Kacchan is different. He hasn’t spoken (or argued) with Izuku in a while, instead opting to watch him most times, staring at him with a calculating glint in his eyes. Or the closest to a glint one could manage when you’re a six year old with seventeen brain cells. The days passed in a blur, and the hours seemed to be shorter when Izuku wasn’t getting burnt every day. Summer vacation likely had a part in that, too. A few days before they were set to leave for break, Kacchan finally came up to him after weeks of radio silence.
“Dek… Izuch—” Kacchan grunted in frustration as he stumbled over his words, struggling to decide on what to call him. He settled on, “Izuku.” His tone was blunt and direct as always, but Izuku could hear the reluctance in his voice. He still knew his mannerisms, even when they hadn’t been friends for months.
“...Yeah, Kacchan?” Izuku said in reply, just as hesitant.
Kacchan took a breath, seemingly to prepare himself, before he continued, “I guess … you’re not useless.” The words seemed to physically pain Kacchan as he spat them out. “ So. You can be my hero sidekick. ‘Cause your power comp-lee-ments mine.” He sounded out the word, having obviously only recently learned it, probably from his dad. It made him look smart. Izuku opened his mouth to reply, and immediately was cut off. “BUT. I’m still gonna be the number one hero! You can only be number two!”
Izuku paused, staring at the constipated expression on his face, before dissolving into giggles. He knew this was the closest thing to an apology Kacchan could muster, and Izuku, who hadn’t had real friends in months, who had only known hot sparks and fire for far too long, who longingly wished for his best friend back, took it. He just wanted his friend back. And so, before Kacchan could get mad at his giggles, he replied. “Duh! You’ll always be number one, Kacchan!”
Kacchan nodded approvingly at his reply, and grabbed at Izuku’s hand before he could say anything against it. Just like that, they were back to how they were before. The burn scars faded with the help of some aloe vera, Izuku ignored the fear he got when he saw Kacchan’s explosions and smelt burnt sugar, and he learned to harness his abilities instead.
It was the day of the entrance exams. The hero course entrance exams. The UA hero course entrance exams. Those entrance exams. The day had finally arrived, and needless to say, Izuku was… more than a little antsy. He flicked the sparkwheel of his lighter a few times—an unfortunate nervous tic he’d picked up recently, resulting in more than a few bandaged fingers. He wiped his hands, struggling to grip the lighter properly, then gave it one final spark. He watched the flame dance for a moment before activating his quirk, something he’s now much more proficient at controlling since his elementary days. The flame went up, down, expanded, then exploded into a million sparks and extinguished in the air. Sometimes it was hard to believe he really had a quirk—a good, useful one, too. He’d discovered and analyzed nearly every aspect of it—he can expand the sparks into flames, he can condense it back into sparks, he can break it into pieces, but he can’t create or instantly destroy it. It’d taken a long time to get to where he was, to harness this level of control. He took a deep breath in, and a deep breath out.
Izuku could do this. With the help of his lighter and with the support of Kacchan by his side, he could do this. He could become a hero. With his head held high, he walked into the entrance exam—
And immediately got splashed with water, his lighter not exempt from this fate. It seemed someone had a water-based quirk and used it to get a boost from the others. Good for them, he distantly thought. A water quirk is useful, and—he huffed, pushing his analyzing to the side, instead focusing on the situation at hand. Of course, his heart fell immediately, but he pushed his panic aside as well. He needed to stay calm. He needed to keep a level head. He quickly ran into a secluded area to try and evaluate… everything going on. His hands shook as he brought his lighter up to his face to inspect it, but he wasn’t too distraught. Yet. Not all hope was lost. He pried the hood off and began blowing into it, trying to push the water out. He struck the sparkwheel over and over, and… nothing.
Izuku took a breath to calm himself, not paying attention to the cacophony around him. Instead, he looked around for Kacchan. He could expand one of Kacchan’s sparks and heat up his lighter to evaporate the water. He… looked around for Kacchan. He left the secluded area. He looked. For Kacchan. Kacchan, who should be near him. Kacchan, who had planned earlier with Izuku, that he would stay near his side. Kacchan, who had promised he wouldn’t abandon Izuku.
Kacchan, who was evidently not here, and had, indeed, abandoned Izuku in the dust.
Izuku decided that now was a suitable time to panic. All at once, the previously dulled cacophony seemed to expand and surround him, engulfing him in the explosions of noise that suddenly rose up. His breath quickened, and his gaze was zeroed in on his broken lighter.
His quirk was the one thing he had going for him. He couldn’t do it without the lighter, and he most definitely couldn’t do it without Kacchan. He was, admittedly, weak and puny—him and Kacchan had been focusing on their quirk usage, not their physical abilities. He couldn’t beat up robots. There wasn’t anyone else with fire quirks that he could see nearby, and they definitely wouldn’t let him take their flames.
Izuku… really couldn’t do this. It was over. His lighter was broken, and he was absolutely alone.
He sat on the ground near the entrance and waited for the exam to end, distantly praying that he would at least not get his arms broken, because at this point, it seemed like his luck was against him today. Getting a robot or something sicced on him would be just his luck.
His arms didn’t get broken. Just his hopes and dreams. Yay.
Izuku hadn’t talked to Kacchan since the exam. His letter from UA went straight in the trash, alongside the lighter that had failed him in his most crucial moment. And then he dug the lighter out because it was limited edition All Might merch and it still worked now that it had dried out. He lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling.
Izuku didn’t even know what he was supposed to do now. All of his plans had been reliant on him passing that exam. He knew Kacchan would get in, so where does that leave him? The useless Deku, all alone.
He turned to the side, meeting All Might’s eyes on one of his many posters. He really couldn’t become a hero, could he? He might as well face the facts. It was always just… Kacchan. He was the real hero material, and Izuku just followed along. What use is a hero that can be taken out with a bit of water? He could become a firefighter, obviously, but… Maybe Izuku’s just being picky, but it’s not the same, is it? It feels like he’d be settling. He wouldn’t be truly happy, and while he’d still be helping people, it always comes down to heroes in the end. Heroes are really the ones saving and helping people.
Not Izuku.
Izuku turned back around in bed, unable to keep looking at All Might any longer. In the morning, he’ll look at applications for normal high schools.
It’ll be okay eventually.